The Phoebe Effect
by Richard Lawson
Summary: Phoebe Buffay-Hannigan relives some of her earlier memories and undergoes a journey she never expected to take.
1. Part 1

Phoebe Buffay-Hannigan sat back on the couch and put a hand on her swelling stomach. Not much, barely noticeable and just as easily explained by a recent eating binge. But it wasn't. What was causing her stomach to protude ever-so-slightly was much more exiciting. 

Mike Hannigan, sitting on the couch next to her, reached over and placed his hand on top of hers. "Five months," he said with some excitement.

"Yeah." Phoebe smiled, enjoying his anticipation. It would be a wonderful time, a wonderful moment, when she at last gave birth to a child she could keep. And she counted herself lucky to have someone like Mike to share the experience with.

"So... should we start thinking about names? For boys and girls?"

Unbidden came names that were very dear to her. Joey, Ross, Chandler. Rachel, Monica. Phoebe suppressed a sigh, lamenting what had been lost. Joey was in California, Monica and Chandler were in Westchester, Ross and Rachel were hip-deep in wedding preparations. She didn't see any of them very often, which only a couple of years ago would be unthinkable. She used to see them every day.

Mike shifted next to her. "What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, mildly surprised. He was getting better at reading her moods. Phoebe smiled a reassurance. "Nothing big. But I'm terrible with names, you know that. Unless you want a child named Princess Consuela."

"Well, not so much, no." Mike grinned. "But I still want a name that means something to you."

Phoebe again listed off the five names in her head, then just as quickly pushed them aside. They were important and special, but she wasn't quite ready to use them for her children. "Oh, I don't know. We can call the baby Phoebe Junior or Mike Junior."

"C'mon, you can do better than that," Mike gently chided. "Who was the most important person in your life?"

"Ooh, I know!" Phoebe jumped to her feet, ran to the closet. She opened it up and carefully selected a few items. She traipsed back to the couch and put the incense holder on the coffee table. With painstaking care she arranged three sticks of incense, then lit them. She flopped back onto the couch and grinned at Mike. "Okay!"

Mike had watched the entire procedure with puzzled amusement. "Okay what?"

"I'm going to remember." Phoebe swung her legs up onto the couch and rested her head in Mike's lap. She reached up, fondled his lips with her fingers for a moment, then folded her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes.

Mike seemed to be still having problems. "Remember what?"

"Who the most important person in my life was." She opened her eyes, crinkled them. "Besides you."

He smiled back. "And them?"

"Yeah." Again she was struck by how much he really understood about her. Phoebe closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drawing in the scents, allowing them to relax her and open her mind.

She heard Mike also take a breath and tried to shut that away, make it distant, make her be aware of him but not be distracted by him. Her focus was inwards, towards the memory of her life, drawing her down the stream of her existence, highlighting a moment here, a moment there...

...there was too much junk in the back seat. Phoebe sighed and sifted through it - again. She never knew what Cindy - or, more specifically, Cindy's hand - would consider vital and important. All Phoebe knew was that it was very difficult to sleep with the cans and shoeboxes and an old toaster spilling all over the place. And Gremlins weren't the roomiest of cars to begin with anyway.

She picked up an empty can of tomato soup. Phoebe grimaced and chose a McDonald's bag to stuff it in. When it was inside she felt better. It was a step, there was more control, more order. She reached for another can.

Suddenly a fist was thrust in front of her face. It twitched spasmodically as a high-pitched voice came from behind her. "What do you think you're doing?"

Phoebe cringed. "I'm sorry, Cindy." She turned around and looked out the broken window. A tall, almost emaciated man stood there, his face contorted into the parody of an angry expression. She didn't know what his name was, but he called his hand 'Cindy' so that was how she thought of him.

The fist was moved back in front of her face. It twitched again as Cindy spoke out of the corner of his mouth. "I don't want you touching my things! Put them back this instant."

Phoebe sighed. "Yes, Cindy." She emptied the bag and tossed it back onto the seat. When Cindy wandered away again maybe she could stick a few of the cans into the toaster oven and make some room that way.

Cindy's face relaxed and he spoke in a deeper, frightened voice. "I, I'm sorry Phoebe, it's just... Cindy is very protective of me. I can't - I have to do what she says."

"I know." Phoebe brushed her hair back for want of anything better to do. It was best to say as little as possible when Cindy's hand was in control.

She'd hoped he'd go away but Cindy climbed into the front seat. It was his domain and a lot less cluttered than the back seat he allowed her to occupy. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out half a baked potato in a takeout container. "I found this outside the restaurant. It's still warm. Want it?"

"Yes, please." She took it, and it was indeed still warm, a real treat. Phoebe greedily scooped up some of the potato with her fingers and shoved it into her mouth, and it was good. The perpetual hunger lessened a bit as she finished it off. Phoebe licked her fingers, then smiled at Cindy. He was capable of real kindness, and the abandoned car provided shelter from the dreary rain, and she was grateful to him for providing both. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He paused, and Phoebe wondered if she would be invited to the front seat where they'd do things she didn't particularly enjoy but would keep his hand quiet for a while. Instead he stretched himself across the front seats and began muttering to his hand. Phoebe knew he'd be at it for hours.

She was relieved, although the comfort of the front seat would have been welcomed. Positioning herself as best she could, Phoebe closed her eyes and drifted into a world where spirits sang and no one ever died and everything was happiness and light...

"...light."

Mike started slightly. "What?"

Phoebe opened her eyes. "Turn off the light, please. It'll help me relax more."

"Oh. Okay." Mike stood up. "Although you seemed pretty relaxed just now."

Phoebe stilled her features. The memory she'd revisited was not really a pleasant one. Or, more accurately, it was one of the most pleasant memories she'd had of an extremely unpleasant part of her life. And that was just one of a series of unpleasant phases of existence.

Mike turned off the lights and sat back down on the couch. Phoebe settled down on his lap again and relaxed her body and mind and spirit. The aroma guided her, down and back and away, the smoke drifting around her body and feet...

"...off the couch!"

Phoebe opened her eyes and looked up at the angry visage of Monica. "What?"

"I said, get your feet off the couch!" Monica slapped the air where Phoebe's hastily retracted feet used to rest on the arm of the couch. "I just cleaned that yesterday."

And you'll clean it tomorrow, Phoebe didn't say. And the next day after that. She sat up, the pleasant drowsiness of an afternoon nap being driven away by Monica's irritation. Cleaning was a never-ending chore for Monica; to her eyes something was either filthy or well on its way to becoming so.

Monica began fluffing the pillows, moving ominously in Phoebe's direction. Phoebe knew that this was leading to a moment where Monica would attempt to fluff the cushions while Phoebe was still sitting on them. Rather than go through that, Phoebe stood and wandered over to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and stared inside. She was getting accustomed to being able to eat what she wanted whenever she wanted, but every once in a while she'd find herself in awe at the sight of all that food.

"Take a picture, then decide what you want." Monica gently but firmly closed the refrigerator door. "You're wasting all the cold."

Monica turned back towards the living room, which was probably just as well as she missed Phoebe's flat look. Monica should be careful what she said with all those shiny kitchen knives so close at hand.

Phoebe shook herself, hard. She had, fortunately, only had to physically defend herself a few times in her life, and had perfected the art of getting what she wanted through intimidation rather than actual violence. The fact that her roommate was driving her to such thoughts meant something not good. And Phoebe deplored not-good things.

She opened the refrigerator door again and quickly extracted the orange juice and two bananas. Letting the refrigerator door fall closed behind her, she walked over to the kitchen table and put the bananas in front of the chair. As she sat she raised the carton of orange juice to her lips.

"What do you think you're doing!"

Phoebe froze, the carton a few inches from her lips. She looked over at the disgusted expression on Monica's face. Phoebe's arm actually trembled from the physical effort she expended trying not to hurl the carton at Monica's face.

Monica shook her head, then her face and expression softened. "Here." She walked over, took the bananas and carton from Phoebe. She went over to the counter, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and poured a goodly amount of the orange juice into it. She handed the glass to Phoebe. "Enjoy. Give me just two minutes and I'll make you a nice fruit salad. Okay?"

"O-okay." Phoebe sipped the juice, unsure of what more to say.

Monica opened the refrigerator and pulled out some more items. She went back to the counter and, indeed, began quickly and efficiently to prepare various fruits and condiments into a tasty-looking dish.

Monica set the plate in front of Phoebe, along with a fork and napkin. She smiled, patted Phoebe on the side of her head, and then went back towards the living room to continue cleaning.

Phoebe looked down at her fruit salad, her eyes beginning to water. No one had fixed a meal for her, not since... Phoebe refused to finish the thought, and instead picked up the fork and began to eat. It was good, very good. Monica was a kind and caring woman, and Phoebe loved her dearly for it.

But she just couldn't stand living with her, not any more. Phoebe sighed, and knew she'd have to do something about that soon. But right now, she just ate the salad and it felt good, making her stomach...

...stomach tremble, and Phoebe's eyes flew open. It was much too soon to be able to feel the baby kicking, but there had been something there. Phoebe wasn't sure what it was.

"Well?" Mike was gently stroking Phoebe's hair. "Any progress?"

Phoebe looked at him, then closed her eyes. That had been the wrong moment. She still loved Monica, but she didn't want to name the baby after her, not yet. Maybe she was supposed to name it after her grandmother; that was the apartment she had slowly moved into after deciding to leave Monica's. But that also didn't feel right, the baby didn't feel like Grandma.

Phoebe calmed her emotions. "A little," she said in response to Mike's question. "Let me try one more time. I think I'm getting close."

"All right." He continued stroking her hair, which felt nice, when coupled with the scent of incense...

...incense on her check. Phoebe took another whiff and it smelled exciting and full of promise. She looked up at Deborah and grinned. "Thank you!"

Deborah normally had a world-weary expression on her face, but this time an amused look forced its way to the surface. "You're welcome, kid. You do good work, the customers like you. I hope you keep coming back."

"I will, I will!" Phoebe hopped up and down, then whirled once. This was exciting, she hadn't had a real paying job since that Dairy Queen gig. An actual paycheck, not a collection of fives and tens extracted from someone's purse or wallet.

Legitimate money. Earned money. Money she felt good about, for the first time in forever. This was a prize beyond price.

Phoebe bent down, lifted up her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. She flashed one more smile at Deborah. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, kid." Deborah bent back down to her bookkeeping.

Phoebe headed towards the door. Mentally she ran through the list of possibilities. The library? The police had just rousted it the day before yesterday, so that should be a good place to stay tonight. Plus they had the best bathrooms. Or if it wasn't too cold she could just set up in the park.

"You should clean yourself up better."

Phoebe paused halfway out the door. "What?"

Deborah wasn't even looking at her as she scribbled on one of her ledgers. "You're lucky this is aromatherapy. The incense covers a lot of stuff. But you should really try clean yourself up."

"But I do! I wash every day!" Phoebe burst out. The YWCA was relatively easy to sneak into, and every day or two Phoebe managed a thorough shower. And she could always find a bathroom with a good sink to at least scrub her hands and face. She didn't smell bad, not in the least.

"I don't doubt that," Deborah said. "But your clothes - I think you have, what, three blouses, two skirts, and some overalls? I've seen 'em all, and I'm pretty sure those don't get cleaned too often."

Phoebe blushed. That much was true. Every once in a long while she'd splurge and take her clothes to a laundry place to clean. Mostly she got by with just trying to scrub out stains. "I, I'm sorry."

Deborah looked up. "Don't go all gooey-eyed on me. I'm just saying, you got some money, maybe spend it on some different clothes. Find yourself a nice place to stay. You've got a job now, get off the street and start making a life for yourself."

"Uh, okay." Phoebe smiled shakily, then left. She didn't want Deborah to see her reactions.

Making a life? She already had a life. A good life, with good friends. Okay, not everyone's definition of 'good'. But people she knew and trusted. Sort of trusted. To a certain extent.

But an apartment? A 'normal' life? Ursula had one of those - she'd found a job as a waitress and moved into Larry's apartment - and she was deeply unhappy. Phoebe didn't want that, not at all. She was happy where she was.

Maybe not everyone's definition of 'happy'. But close enough.

Phoebe stalked to a nearby branch of the bank that Deborah used for the payroll checks. They would be happy to cash it for Phoebe - provided she had a driver's license. Phoebe knew how to drive, but lacking a permanent residence didn't have a legitimate ID, and all the fake ones were in other people's names. She ended up at a check-cashing place, which lopped off twenty percent of the paycheck and grudgingly allowed her the rest.

Phoebe found a laundry place nearby and quickly went inside. She opened her duffel bag and stuffed her clothes into a washing machine. After feeding it another portion of her paycheck, it thrummed to life. Phoebe stared at it, trying to keep her mind here, focused. She desperately wanted to drift away, to think of more pleasant times with her mother and sister, when she had a stepfather and a house and a school and a family, and while none of those things had been perfect the sum total had been all right, bearable. Before Ursula had beckoned her into the kitchen to show her what she'd discovered.

Phoebe wrenched her mind away from that. Here, now. A job, being given money to learn how to relax people with incense and massage. So different from anything she had ever done, but so easy, too, she could see where they were murky and make it go away and encourage the light to come out.

All she had to do was find a way for the light to come out in her life, too.

Raising her head, Phoebe glanced around. On one wall was a largish bulletin board. Phoebe walked over to it, her eyes wandering around the various pieces of paper. Her eyes came to rest on one, precisely lettered.

ROOMMATE WANTED  
For 2 bedroom Apt in Manhattan  
Kitchen, 1 Bath, Spacious Living Room, Balcony  
Female, Non-smoker, NO DRUGS, No pets  
Must Be Neat

Phoebe considered that for a long time. Living with someone. In a normal apartment. That meant living with someone else's rules. Phoebe had lived by herself for so long, had made her way with no one to answer to. She liked that, she cherished that, no one could hurt her that way.

Except, somehow, they still had found ways to hurt her.

Phoebe drew a deep breath. A 'normal' life. She didn't want that, she hated that, that led to hurt and suffering and kitchen ovens. But she'd also met people who had lived on the street for years, decades. They also didn't look too happy. Still, she'd managed to find a few points of lightness and joy here and there. Perhaps she could out there, too, in the 'normal' world.

If she were willing to make a few changes in herself. That last line in the advertisement sounded ominous. It sounded like losing control. Of her life.

Except her life wasn't really leading her anywhere. Just away from things. She needed time to stop, to rest, to reassess. This wasn't a commitment, it was just... a layover.

Phoebe reached out to take one of the strips that hung from the flyer, with a name and phone number printed on them. And hesitated.

A normal life. Like her sister had. Like all the miserable people she knew had. Like her mother... in her normal house in her normal kitchen with the normal gas-burning stove.

Phoebe flinched, retracted her hand. She trembled, overwhelmed by the enormity of what she was contemplating. Following in her mother's footsteps, maybe reaching the same destiny her mother had. Or, or just maybe, finding her own way, her own destiny. But oh, oh the risk.

Then, with a calm strength, Phoebe reached out and separated one of the strips of paper.

Phoebe turned away, the strips of paper undisturbed, and felt better. Whatever was in that apartment wasn't for her. She had her life, made with her own hands and relying on her own wits, and she'd done just fine.

Phoebe looked around, saw a pay phone in one corner of the room. She still had lots of change in her pocket, and there was no time to wait or she'd never be able to see it through. She walked over, lifted up the receiver, pushed some quarters into the slot.

Phoebe went back to the laundry machine where her clothes were being washed. Let Deborah complain, her customers didn't seem to mind. Perhaps Phoebe could buy some new blouses, placate Deborah for a while.

Phoebe punched in some numbers, then listened as the phone rang. A young woman's voice said pleasantly, "Hello?" Phoebe's throat locked up, unable to find a way to respond.

Phoebe perched herself on the laundry machine, feeling the pleasant vibrations, relieved she had resisted the temptation to call that woman. Neat, indeed. She didn't need that, stuff like that led to ovens. She'd find her own way, and to hell with ovens and neatness and normalcy.

With a calm strength, Phoebe reached out and separated one of the strips of paper.

Phoebe turned away, the strips of paper undisturbed, and felt better.

"I, I, I'm Phoebe, I saw your flyer, I was wondering... uh, are you still looking for a roommate?"

The washing machine spun to a halt. Phoebe jumped down and began unloading it.

Phoebe flinched, retracted her hand.

With a calm strength

Phoebe turned away

her own destiny

A young woman's voice said pleasantly, "Hello?"

Phoebe turned away

turned away

"Phoebe, what's wrong? Phoebe, wake up!"

With a calm strength, Phoebe reached out and separated one of the strips of paper.

"That's far enough. Hand it over, Stretch."

Phoebe turned away, the strips of paper undisturbed, and felt better.

separated

turned away

"Phoebe! Phoebe!"

felt better

with a calm

the strips of paper undisturbed

turned away

Her vision cleared, focused. Phoebe tried to stand up but realized she was already on her feet. She didn't remember doing that, rising. She'd been... grabbing for the flyer? No, resting on Mike's lap. The incense, the dimness, the memories. This was another memory, that was all.

But she didn't remember it. Phoebe finally began processing details. In front of her stood two men. Or, more accurately, they crouched in front of her, staring at her intensely. Phoebe frowned, their stance sending all sorts of danger signals to her brain. Her gaze moved to their hands. Each was holding a knife, ready to slash.

Phoebe tried to recall when she'd last been in a fight like this. Ten years, more. She tried to assume a combat stance herself and found that she was already in one. She risked a quick look at her hands. One was empty. The other held an unfamiliar purse.

"Give it to us, Stretch." This from the man closest to her. "You know the deal."

Phoebe did, in fact, know the deal. The usual petty street crime. Her participation in such endeavors had usually been limited to distracting the mark, although she had done plenty of single takedowns herself.

But this was no memory of meeting up with the gang afterwards to split up the loot. This was the takedown itself. She was the mark. But Phoebe had no memory, ever, of being mugged.

She decided to try calling out. "Mike? Wake me up, Mike."

The first man frowned at her, but the second just snickered. "Nice try, Stretch, but the brainless bimbo routine won't work on us. I've seen you operate before. Today you operated on our turf, and now you'll pay."

Phoebe looked back and forth between the men, unable to recognize either of them, unsure what they were talking about. The last thing she needed right now, though, was to try and provoke them. She desperately hoped this wasn't the long-buried memory of a fight she had lost. Phoebe straightened and tossed the purse to the ground at their feet. "All right. You win."

Slight surprise flickered across both their faces. The fist man reached down without taking his eyes off of her and scooped up the purse. The second man leered at her. "That was too easy, Stretch. What else you got on you?"

"Nothing! I-" Phoebe looked down at herself, blinked. She was wearing what appeared to be a black jogging suit. It had seen better days but was still serviceable. It fit her loosely; there were many places she might have hidden any number of things.

"Yeah right, nothing." The first man's leer was almost a mirror image of the second man's. "Strip off all your clothes and we might almost believe you."

Phoebe looked back and forth between them, then risked a quick look around. She was in an alley somewhere. She could hear traffic in a street somewhere behind her, a fair distance away by the sound of it. Phoebe weighed her options. Fight two armed men. Turn and run and hope she'd reach the street before they caught her - without any guarantee that reaching the street meant any kind of safety.

Neither alternative appealed to her.

Fortunately she knew a third method, one that had helped her in many similar situations. She smiled, a practiced unnatural smile she hadn't used in years. But she knew how it looked - wide and fearsome, equal parts anticipation and madness. The words came naturally to her. "You just try, little boys. Momma's got a surprise here she's just dying to show you." Phoebe reached under her sweatshirt, as if gripping something tucked into the waistband of her sweatpants.

That did, in fact, wipe the smile off of both men. They glanced at each other, and Phoebe could almost read their minds: take what she'd already given them and go. Who knew what the crazy woman would do.

The second man took a step back. "Just remember, Stretch. This is our territory. You stay out of it, hear?" Without waiting for a response he turned and sauntered away in a too-casual manner. The first man blew her a mocking kiss, then followed the second man.

Phoebe took her opening. She immediately turned and walked towards the street. She listened but they didn't come running for her. After a minute she made it to the sidewalk and relaxed marginally.

Wherever she was didn't look familiar. She could be anywhere in any of the boroughs. With a little more care Phoebe searched herself, trying to find what she had on her and whether it could help her out of the memory.

She found a wad of money - about a hundred dollars or so by a quick estimation - and a small switchblade. Phoebe stared at it, befuddled. She was absolutely certain she had never carried a knife like this with her at any time in her life, and yet there it was.

What Phoebe didn't find was any identification. That was a familiar tactic - don't get caught with any ID on you, there's always a chance for an escape and you look like a lot of other people. Everything important would be stashed somewhere for later retrieval. Phoebe had no idea where that stash might be.  
With an exaggerated sigh she trooped down the street. This was wrong, this whole memory was wrong, hopefully the incense would soon burn out and Mike would realize that she was asleep and wake her up. Phoebe couldn't wait. Whatever this place was, it certainly wasn't a happy place.

She found a street corner. The street names were unfamiliar to her. The cars, the people, the buildings - none of them felt right. A section of the Times was tantalizingly close in the nearby gutter and Phoebe retrieved it. At least this could help her place where in her head she was.

The section was Sports, not one of her favorites to read. Phoebe glanced at the date, shook her head, read it again. It was today. Today, the day she'd been talking with Mike about names for the baby. Phoebe felt her stomach, confirmed that she wasn't pregnant. But she was supposed to be, if today was today.

Phoebe threw the newspaper to the ground, closed her eyes, and screamed. "Wake up! Wake up!"

After a moment she opened them again. A dreary unfamiliar street corner. Not-pregnant Phoebe standing in the middle of a today that couldn't be. No couch in a cozy apartment. No Mike.

Phoebe wiped her eyes dry and considered her next step. Hopefully Mike could get her out of whatever delusion she had fallen into, but if he couldn't... she'd need to find out where he was in this world. Where they all were. Where anyone was.

Phoebe pulled out her cash and selected a dollar bill. First things first. Make change, dial a number. Everything would go from there.

---

(to be continued)


	2. Part 2

Phoebe sighed and hung up, fighting against the tears of frustration that threatened to come spilling out.  
  
None of the numbers she had memorized were right. She'd called everyone's cell phone and each time had gotten someone unexpected. Eventually she had stopped getting change and had purchased a phone card. She had been running down its minutes making more inquiries.  
  
She had called Mike's parents' house. She'd managed to get through to his father, who didn't recognize Phoebe and wouldn't tell her where Mike was, only that he was currently out of the country.  
  
Phoebe picked up the phone and dialed directory assistance. She waited, spoke in response to the prompts. "Westchester. Chandler Bing, B-I-N-G."  
  
A moment later a woman responded. "I find no listing for Chandler Bing in Westchester."  
  
"Can... can you search all of New York?"  
  
"Statewide?" The woman sounded dubious. Still, Phoebe heard typing. "No listing for a Chandler Bing anywhere in New York."  
  
"Uh, okay." Where'd Chandler go? "Manhattan, Joey Tribbiani, two b's, one n."  
  
"I'm sorry, I have no listing for a Joey Tribbiani."  
  
Of course not, he was in California. She hoped. "Manhattan, Ross Geller, G-E-L-L-E-R."  
  
"One moment." And a click, followed by a recorded voice. "The number is..."  
  
Phoebe's eyes widened as she realized she had no pen, nothing to write with. She muttered the numbers over and over and hung up. Quickly she dialed it, hoping, hoping.  
  
It rang once, twice, and then a familiar voice said, "Hello?"  
  
"Ross!" Phoebe sagged in relief. "Ross, this is Phoebe."  
  
Silence for a moment. "Do... do I know you?"  
  
"Oh Ross..." Phoebe clutched the phone desperately. "It's me. Phoebe. Please, you know me."  
  
"I, I'm sorry miss, I don't... I've never met anyone named Phoebe."  
  
"Yes you have, it's me, it's..." Phoebe cut herself off. This was getting nowhere. "Look, can we meet? Talk, face to face? I really really need to see you."  
  
Now Ross sounded suspicious. "Why?"  
  
"Nothing bad will happen, I promise. Can we meet at Central Perk?"  
  
"Central Park?"  
  
"Perk. You know, the coffee house."  
  
"Oh yeah, I know the place." Ross paused slightly. "What is this about? Who are you?"  
  
So many answers flashed through her head. I'm the maid of honor at your upcoming wedding. I'm the one you poured your heart out to when you first found out about Carol. I'm the one that hugged you when you thought Rachel was leaving forever. I'm the one that sang songs to you and about you when you needed to hear them the most and I need you now, listening to me now, please Ross, please...  
  
Phoebe drew a shaky breath. "I'll explain when we meet. It will only take a few minutes." She couldn't think of a way to convince him, other than to beg with one quiet word. "Please."  
  
The silence dragged on as Phoebe held on to the phone for dear life.  
  
Finally, Ross spoke again. "All right. When?"  
  
Phoebe leaned against the phone and breathed a silent thanks.  
  
---  
  
Central Perk looked exactly the same. Phoebe eyed the surroundings, spotted Gunther behind the counter. He glanced at her but showed no recognition. Phoebe walked up and ordered a latte. While it was being made she went into the bathroom.  
  
She'd been almost dreading this moment, wondering what kind of horrible creature she'd turned into. But having overplayed her worst fears, what she saw in the reflection was mild by comparison. It was still her face, just a little thinner, and little more worn. Her hair was only shoulder-length and a little stringy, and she was wearing no makeup or jewelry.  
  
Phoebe once again lamented the loss of her own purse, stuffed away who knew where. She cleaned herself as best she could, and found a forgotten hairpin which she used to bind up her hair. The result wasn't necessarily attractive but it was presentable. So she hoped.  
  
She left and found two things waiting for her: the latte, and Ross. The former was resting on the counter, the latter was sitting at one of the front tables. Phoebe quickly paid Gunther while studying Ross.  
  
He looked no different. He was dressed as if for class - tie, brown jacket, slacks. He was sipping a mug of coffee as he looked at the front door, and Phoebe could tell he was nervous.  
  
Slowly Phoebe approached, until he noticed her and looked her over. She saw his nervousness increase, which filled her with a bit of despair. He truly didn't recognize her, and was frightened by her.  
  
Still, it was easy to smile, because even after everything she was pleased to see him. "Hi Ross."  
  
"Hello. Phoebe, I presume?"  
  
"Yup." Phoebe sat at the table. "So, how have you been?"  
  
"Look, lady." Ross was getting irritated. "You called me here for some reason. As far as I can tell, it was just to get me out of my apartment so your friends could rob it. Well, the joke's on them. One of my neighbors is watching it right now, and he'll call the police the moment he sees anyone come near."  
  
"Oh, it's nothing like that." Phoebe took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"Better not be." Ross studied her again. "But you have about ten seconds to start telling me what it is about or I'm leaving."  
  
Phoebe nodded. "Everything's wrong. I'm not supposed to be like this, I'm supposed to be married and pregnant. All the phone numbers have changed - yours, Monica's, Rachel's, Joey's. They don't live in Westchester, you don't live in Ugly Naked Guy's apartment. I don't know how it all got messed up, but you have to help me make it right."  
  
Ross stared at her for a minute. Then he stood up. "Goodbye."  
  
"Wait!" Phoebe reached out to grab his arm. "You had a cat when you and Monica were kids. Fluffy Meowington, that's what you called him. And you had a dog Chichi which your parents told you had gone to live on a farm when he died. You, you came up with the idea for Jurassic Park after getting bitten by a mosquito way before the movie came out. Your favorite band in high school was Frankie Goes to Hollywood. You and Chandler started a band in college. Your best song was Emotional..." Phoebe ground to a halt. Oh God, what was it? "Emotional... Backpack?"  
  
Ross looked at her strangely. "Knapsack."  
  
"Yes!" Phoebe beamed. "That was it!"  
  
"How... how do you know these things about me?"  
  
"Because I know you, I know everything about you. I know how much you love paleontology. I know how important your family and friends are to you. I know how much you love your son and daughter."  
  
"Daughter?" Ross shook his head. "I don't have a daughter."  
  
"Oh." Phoebe's smile dimmed. "But you're supposed to. That's what's changed, and we need to unchange it."  
  
Ross looked down at her hand, still grasping his arm. "Is it supposed to be our daughter?"  
  
"Oh no, don't be silly." Phoebe hastily retracted her arm. "It's supposed to be your daughter with Rachel."  
  
"Rachel?"  
  
"Yes. Rachel Green."  
  
"Rachel Green!" Ross sat back down heavily. "I have a daughter with Rachel Green?"  
  
"Yes, see? We have to make that real again."  
  
"How can it be real? I haven't seen Rachel since... gosh, since college."  
  
"Really?" Phoebe frowned slightly. "Didn't you meet her again the day she ran out on her wedding?"  
  
"She ran out on her wedding?" Ross looked very surprised. "When was this?"  
  
"Oh, ten, eleven years ago. She ran to Monica's apartment, but she wasn't there, she was here, in Central Perk, and Mr. Treeger told her she'd probably be here, so she came in and found her here, and you were here too."  
  
Ross seemed to have a little trouble following that. "But... we stopped coming here when Monica moved out of Nana's apartment."  
  
"Moved out?" Phoebe's mouth dropped open. "Why'd she move out?"  
  
"Well..." Ross seemed uncertain how much to say. "She, she had a roommate, Meghan, that she didn't get along with. Eventually Meghan left in a huff, and told the building owners that Monica was living there as part of an illegal sublet. So they evicted her."  
  
Phoebe felt as if the world had slapped her on the back of the head, hard. That day, that moment, looking at the flyer, Roommate Wanted, Must Be Neat. Hesitating, then grabbing the flyer. Leaving the flyer behind. Doing both at once.  
  
"So..." Phoebe said out loud, "...if Monica wasn't here, which was the last place Rachel knew to look for her, then they never met again. So you two never met again, either, and never fell in love."  
  
"Fell in love?"  
  
Phoebe focused on Ross again, seeing in him rationality warring strongly with longing and hope. Phoebe reached over, squeezed his hand. "Look. Let me talk to you for a few minutes. Let me tell you who I am, and how we met, and how it was all supposed to be. All right?"  
  
Ross peered at her. Phoebe looked right back, pouring all her love and friendship into him, trying to make him feel what she felt, to rekindle that which should never have been lost inside him.  
  
"I, I don't know how you know these things about me," Ross said at last. "I don't like it. You're trying to use me for me something. You're setting me up for some kind of scam, aren't you? I don't have any money, I'm not very rich. I work at a museum and they don't pay me very well. There's nothing in the museum worth stealing unless you're a paleontologist. So whatever it is you want from me, you're not getting it."  
  
Phoebe watched him, saw the rational front he was putting on. She'd often teased him about this but had secretly admired him for his ability to analyze and understand. Right now, though, that was getting in the way. Rationally, what she was saying was illogical, therefore she had to be saying it in an effort to extract something from him.  
  
And, unfortunately, that wasn't too far from the truth. Phoebe needed someone to believe her and help her. But she didn't have the nefarious goals Ross was attributing to her. She needed some way to convince him of that.  
  
"Your daughter, Emma, is two years old," she found herself saying. "She runs around with such energy, such joy. She loves to play and laugh, and she makes everyone happy just by being near her, especially her parents. As much as anything, Ross, what I want from you is to see you bring Emma to life."  
  
Ross swallowed. "I, I'm not saying I believe any of this. But... but go ahead. Tell me. I'll listen."  
  
Phoebe smiled widely. "Thank you." She took a sip of her latte to organize her thoughts. "Okay, first of all forget this Meghan chick. I'm the one that moved in with Monica. I got to know her, and you, and Chandler and Kip who lived across the hall. Then Kip moved out and Joey moved in, and I moved out and Rachel moved in. Joey, you don't know him, he's a wonderful man. And for a long time, it was us, the six of us, you and me and Joey and Monica and Chandler and Rachel. About a year after Rachel moved in, Chandler let it slip that you were in love with her, and she..."  
  
---  
  
Phoebe drank down the glass of water Gunther had brought her. She'd talked nearly non-stop for an hour. Ross had asked a few questions but had mostly sat there with a stunned expression very similar to the one he was wearing now.  
  
Which, Phoebe supposed, he had every right to do. She patiently waited him out.  
  
"That's... that's quite a story," he finally said.  
  
"It's not a story, silly." Phoebe offered him a reassuring smile. "It's all true."  
  
"But... but it's not. Monica did move out. She lives with our parents and works as a chef at Denny's. Chandler... Chandler got promoted and moved to Tulsa."  
  
"Tulsa!" Phoebe slapped the table. "I forgot about that. No wonder he didn't have a number in New York."  
  
"Uh, yeah. Either way, he never dated Monica."  
  
"Well, of course not, because you guys never went to London."  
  
"For, for my wedding. My second of three weddings."  
  
"Well, yeah, but don't forget you were about to have your fourth and last wedding." Phoebe grinned. "So, what's happened to you in the past fifteen years?"  
  
"Me, well..." Ross shrugged. "I never got fired from the museum, I can't imagine... becoming as angry as you said."  
  
Phoebe shrugged. "Rachel always inspired your passions, both good and bad."  
  
"Er, yeah." He shifted uncomfortably. "I've dated a few women, I almost got married to one."  
  
"Julie?"  
  
"Yeah, Julie. But, but we were too much alike, we both grew too bored too quickly, and when she broke it off, I couldn't... I couldn't really say I was heartbroken." Ross looked down at the table.  
  
Phoebe studied him a moment. "So you've been living a quiet life, where you go to work every day and do the same things over and over, and you don't have many friends but that doesn't really bother you because you've gotten used to being alone, and other than your son you don't really look forward to seeing anyone or doing anything."  
  
Ross looked up at her with such a look of pain. Phoebe immediately reached out and hugged him. He reacted stiffly, uncomfortably, and Phoebe soon released him. "It's all right. We'll make it better."  
  
"How?" Ross's voice was strained. "How can you... possibly change anything?"  
  
"I changed it once, I can do it again," she said with confidence she didn't quite feel.  
  
"How'd you do it the first time?"  
  
"Um... I don't know," she admitted. "We can try the incense again."  
  
The rationality immediately surged to the forefront, clouding Ross's eyes with suspicion. "Let me guess: especially rare and expensive incense?"  
  
"Oh yeah. I might have to use an entire five dollar bill."  
  
"Oh? Oh."  
  
Phoebe grinned. "But I'd like a quiet place to do it in. Do you trust me enough to let me into your apartment?"  
  
Ross's eyes remained clouded. "Why don't we use your apartment?"  
  
Because I have no idea where I live. Phoebe, however, decided to try a different approach. "Do you trust me enough to come to my apartment?"  
  
"Uh..." Ross considered that. "All right, you can come to my apartment. But you should be warned, I have-"  
  
"Unagi, I know." Phoebe smiled and patted his cheek. "I won't hurt you, I promise."  
  
Ross didn't seem to know how to respond to that, so he simply stood up. Phoebe stood up as well and waited, and after a moment Ross led them out of the coffee house.  
  
---  
  
"So... anything?"  
  
Phoebe's eyes fluttered open. No matter what had changed in the past, Ross was still Ross. Which meant he still tended towards impatience.  
  
Still, he had every right to be. She sat up from where she'd been lying on the couch. The incense sticks had burned all the way down, she saw, and she blew out a sigh of frustration. "Nothing. I can go back to that moment, I can live in it, but in my head it's only the one way, where I took the number and called Monica. I can't get the other image there, and I don't know... I don't know where it came from in the first place."  
  
"Hmm." The look of suspicion was back on Ross's face. "So, as far as you can tell, there's no way to go back and change things."  
  
"Well of course that's not true." Phoebe frowned at him. "Ross, please, just try to pretend that everything I'm saying is true. You're the smart guy, I need you to tell me why this isn't working rather than laughing at me for being so stupid."  
  
He seemed abashed. "I didn't, didn't call you stupid."  
  
"I know." Phoebe calmed herself, let the frustration wash away. "You never did, you were always very respectful of me even when you disagreed with the things I believed in. I think that's what I loved about you, how accepting you could be. It was a surprise to me to see people who could be... tolerant. So please, be that Ross. Indulge me on this and try to help me figure out what's going wrong."  
  
Ross studied her a moment longer. Then he sighed and clasped his hands together, fingers pointed at his chin. "Well, you know, current theory is that time travel is impossible."  
  
"I didn't travel in time, I just... changed something."  
  
"No, that's what I'm saying, it's impossible to change the past." Ross tapped his chin. "However, there are theories that there are multiple universes coexisting with our own, and that some of them branch off from ours at a certain point. They start with the same initial parameters, but go off in different directions. What might have happened is not that you went back and changed anything, but you went back to a moment where another universe branched off, and went down the other path."  
  
"Oh." Phoebe found it hard to breathe. "So, so how come I can't go back and pick the right path?"  
  
"Well... maybe, maybe the other Phoebe needs to be there, too. Maybe at the same time you were reliving your past, the other Phoebe was reliving hers, and the two of you met there and traded places. You can't go back now because she's not there at the same time."  
  
The alleyway, confronted by two young men with knives. A woman in her mid-thirties still resorting to mugging for money, and having to fight off other people just to keep what she had. That might certainly have led to a moment of regret, a desperate deep wish that things had gone differently. Phoebe found her eyes watering with sympathy for the anguish her other self might have been going through.  
  
Suddenly her mouth went dry. "Then that means that this Phoebe, the one that lived in this world..."  
  
"...is currently occupying your body in your universe," Ross confirmed.  
  
"Oh my God." Phoebe jumped to her feet, began pacing. "I'm pregnant, she, she's pregnant. She, oh God, she won't hurt the baby. She can't hurt they baby." She looked up at Ross. "Can she?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know... her... in this universe."  
  
Phoebe collapsed into a sitting position on the couch. "Oh God. So I have to, I have to find a way to contact her, get her to go back to the moment with me."  
  
Ross nodded. "Do you need a different kind of incense for that?"  
  
Phoebe eyed the used sticks. Her mind ran through the list, but there was no leaving-this-universe combination that she was aware of. She shook her head. "I don't know. I've never done anything like this."  
  
"How'd you do it before?" Ross looked at her curiously. "How'd you manage to... put yourself back in time?"  
  
"Feeling," Phoebe replied instantly. "My love for Mike, and for you guys. I wanted a special name for my baby, and I drew strength from him and my memory of all of you, and that made the journey easy."  
  
"So," Ross said reasonably, "you should be able to repeat the process here."  
  
Phoebe sighed. "I was with Mike, I felt his strength, and the strength of all of you. I don't feel it here."  
  
She paused, an idea beginning to form. "But... if I could feel it again..." Phoebe jumped to her feet. "A reunion! Bring them all back together! Mike, Joey, Monica, everyone. If, if I can see you guys, feel all of you with me, then I can, I could do it, I could do anything!"  
  
Phoebe beamed at Ross. He was watching her with a thoughtful frown. "I, I could get Monica pretty easily, and I might even persuade Chandler to come visit, I haven't seen him in a couple of years. I have no idea where Rachel is, and I don't know Joey or Mike at all."  
  
"I can track Joey and Mike down. And your parents are friends with Rachel's parents, right? You can find her if you try. Then they'll all be here!" Phoebe bounced on her feet a couple of times. "We can do it, we can bring them here, it will work!"  
  
Ross smiled slightly, then unclasped his hands as a serious expression settled on his face. "Okay, I've proceeded on the assumption that everything you've said is true. Now, however, I have to go back to being Rational Ross. And Rational Ross says this is all ludicrous. There's no way you're a Phoebe from another universe. And I will embarrass myself tremendously if... if I invite my friends, family, and complete strangers here to visit me to cater to the whims of a nice but slightly unbalanced woman I've never met before."  
  
Phoebe felt the words like blows. "I, I don't know that I like Rational Ross too much."  
  
"He's saved me from doing stupid things a number of times in the past," Ross said evenly.  
  
"Oh?" Phoebe cocked her head. "Did Rational Ross tell you to dress up in a tuxedo to take Rachel to the prom when her boyfriend was late picking her up?"  
  
Ross paled. "How, how did you..."  
  
"Ask Rational Ross how I knew." Phoebe leaned in towards him. "Ask him how I know about the comics you drew about Science Boy that you kept in a backpack that said Geology Rocks. Ask him how I know that at Geller Bowl Six, Monica broke your nose. Ask him how I know that you're deathly afraid of spiders. Ask him how I know about the time you ended up on a fishing boat to Nova Scotia with Gandalf. Ask him how I know about this." She banged her fists together twice. "Ask him how-"  
  
"Stop it!" Ross closed his eyes and turned his head.  
  
Phoebe straightened and folded her arms across her chest, waiting.  
  
After a minute, he opened his eyes and looked back up at her. "You could have hired a detective agency, I suppose with enough effort you could have found out all that stuff about me. Or maybe Monica put you up to this, maybe this is all some sort of twisted plot of hers. Or maybe you can just read minds, that's easier to believe than this universe-switching thing."  
  
Phoebe nodded. "I suppose all those things are possible. But what does your heart tell you? Does it think I'm not telling the truth?"  
  
"That, that's a cop-out. Trying to tell me to be deliberately irrational."  
  
Phoebe sighed and sank back into the couch. "Then all I can say is what I said before. That I'm telling the truth and I need your help, please."  
  
Ross looked at her, an expression of regret on his face. "Let, let me think about it."  
  
The more he thought, the less likely he was to help her. But Phoebe also knew that to press the matter would be wrong. She nodded reluctantly. "I'll call you." Phoebe stood, walked over to Ross, put her hand on his arm. "Thank you for listening to me." She smiled and turned away.  
  
Phoebe got as far as the door before he called out, "Where are you going?"  
  
She stopped but didn't face him. "I, uh, know a few places." The library, the park.  
  
"But if you're not from this universe, you don't know where your apartment is. Or even if you have one."  
  
"Yeah. I'm sorry I lied when I asked if you'd come back to my apartment. I was, I was kind of bluffing you on that."  
  
"Do you want to stay here? I can set up the couch, it's pretty comfortable."  
  
"No." She turned to face him. "I don't want to give Rational Ross any ammunition. He might think I'm making up this story just to find a way to leech off of you."  
  
He winced. "Okay, I guess I deserved that. But if that's all that's holding you back, then please stay. I'd feel much better knowing you were here and safe rather than out there sleeping on a bench."  
  
Phoebe studied him, then smiled. It was the same Ross, the one she loved, no matter what world this was. "Thank you very much."  
  
Ross smiled in return, and Phoebe felt hope arise.  
  
---  
  
(to be continued) 


	3. Part 3

Ross's couch was comfortable enough, and Phoebe woke relatively refreshed. Ross was already on his way out and invited her to eat whatever she wanted. She found enough fruit and juice to make a satisfying breakfast, then took a long shower. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, wondering at her body. It was thinner and had definitely never given birth. It was harder, rougher, stronger, and Phoebe felt a little saddened by the thought that all of those things had been necessary in this world, with this Phoebe.  
  
After washing her hair three times she turned off the shower and dried herself off. She eyed her black sweatshirt and pants, then looked through Ross's clothes with only a hint of guilt. Ross was taller but he had shorts and a t-shirt that fit nicely, and she even helped herself to a pair of his boxers and socks. She then did what she could with her hair, which wasn't much with the tools Ross had. After combing it for what seemed like hours, she found a rubber band and used that as an ersatz scrunchy. Of course he had no makeup, which Phoebe mildly regretted as she would have loved to try some different shadings on this thinner face. Phoebe grinned at her reflection, trying to see if her dimples were any different.  
  
If Phoebe had learned anything from Monica's no-nonsense approach to life, it was to recognize when she was being silly in an effort to avoid doing work. So she forced herself to turn away from the mirror. Phoebe sat at Ross's desk, sharing space with his bed in the bedroom, and picked up the phone.  
  
Ross had told her he would be back at five, but Phoebe knew enough about him not to be surprised when he showed up at three, talking about having a late-afternoon staff meeting cancelled. Phoebe gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know she was accepting what he said at face value.  
  
Ross studied her for a moment, taking in the fact that she was wearing his clothes. Evidently he decided not to comment about it. "So, how'd your search go?"  
  
Phoebe's smile dimmed. "I can't find my husband at all. He really is in Europe but I can't find out where, exactly."  
  
"Oh." Ross sat down on the bed. "Where does that put us with your plan?"  
  
"Well..." Phoebe sighed. "I don't know. I love him but I've only known him for three years. You, Ross, I've known for almost fourteen years. My connection to you and everyone else is still stronger."  
  
"Uh huh." The disbelief grew a little stronger in Ross, to Phoebe's dismay. "Well, I called Chandler and he can come next weekend. Monica will be here, too."  
  
"Oh, yay." Phoebe smiled. "And Rachel?"  
  
Ross sighed. "Are you sure we need Rachel?"  
  
"Oh my, yes!" Phoebe's eyes widened. "She's a part of us, she's a part of you, we need her."  
  
"O-okay." Ross shifted uncomfortably. "My father will talk to her father and let me know where we can reach her."  
  
"Great." Phoebe beamed. "And you gave me a good idea. I called Joey's mother a few minutes ago and found out that Joey lives there but he's at work. I was going to go out and meet him tomorrow."  
  
"Why, why tomorrow?"  
  
"Because I wanted to be here when you got home. I didn't want you to think I'd run away or anything." Phoebe stood up, feeling slightly awkward. "Can I fix you dinner? I'm no Monica but she did teach me some stuff."  
  
Ross seemed to consider this for a moment. "All right."  
  
Phoebe smiled, then found her way to the kitchen. She began another inventory of contents, and scrounged together what she could. He didn't have much but he did have some eggs, which weren't high on Phoebe's list of favorite foods but would do in a pinch. An omelet would be acceptable.  
  
Ross came in while she was still placing various things on the counter. He sat at the small kitchen table and just watched her for a while. Phoebe began humming as she prepared dinner, waiting for whatever Ross was planning to spring on her.  
  
"So," he finally said, "do you know what I have the most problem with?"  
  
"Oh!" Phoebe turned, stared hard at him, tried to read his aura. "The fact that your clothes fit me?"  
  
Ross's brow furrowed. "Uh, no."  
  
"Oh." Phoebe shrugged, turned back to the counter. "You'll have to tell me then."  
  
Ross was silent a moment or two before he spoke again. "Well, it's this. You say that I, I'm getting married to Rachel Green, that I have a child with her already."  
  
"Yup! Emma."  
  
"Emma. But see, I knew her while she was still growing up, I, I watched her all through high school." Ross sounded almost plaintive. "I know the kind of guys she went after, and none of them were anything like me. So, so I kind of have a hard time believing that... that, Rachel could ever... ever find me attractive."  
  
"Oh Ross." Phoebe cracked the eggs in the skillet, thinking hard. "Rachel didn't know what she wanted, not for a long time. She thought she wanted someone who was rich and would give her a comfortable life, and that's why she almost married Barry. But at the very last minute she realized she needed happiness more than she needed security."  
  
Phoebe added the various ingredients she had prepared to the eggs. "She then went out with this Italian guy because he was gorgeous and she thought that sexual attraction was all she needed, but then that wore off and she knew that couldn't be right, either."  
  
"I see," Ross said faintly. "She didn't want attractive men and she didn't want rich men, so naturally she went straight for me."  
  
Phoebe looked up, opened a cupboard, found a plate. She slid the omelet she had made onto it, then set it somewhat forcibly in front of Ross. "You don't understand. She didn't need someone who was fabulously wealthy, just someone who could manage all right. She didn't need someone who prided themselves on their looks, just someone who took care of their body and appearance. And most of all, she needed someone who would care for her, someone who would love her for who she was, not for who they could make her to be. Now, eat up."  
  
Ross looked at her with shock. After a minute, he looked down at the omelet, then back up again. "I, uh, need a fork."  
  
"Oops!" Phoebe turned and opened two drawers before she found the utensils. She grabbed a fork and handed it to Ross. "Here."  
  
He took it with a small smile. "Thank you, Phoebe."  
  
"You're welcome." Phoebe grinned, then turned back and began making her own dinner.  
  
---  
  
The restaurant was almost empty at four in the afternoon. Phoebe glanced around and sat at a table towards the front. Eventually a waiter came over and set a glass and a menu in front of her. "Hi. Our special today is shark soup. Can I get you something to drink?"  
  
Phoebe looked up at the waiter, feeling her chest tighten. "H-hi, Joey."  
  
The waiter blinked in surprise. He was broad-chested and muscular, and his hair carefully sculpted to look casual and neat. Phoebe could only see one difference, and that was his eyes seemed to lack the innate spark of joy that always made Phoebe feel good to be around him.  
  
Joey cocked his head slightly. "Do I know you?"  
  
"Yes. I mean no." Phoebe felt unaccountably flustered. "I mean, you're supposed to know me."  
  
"Oh." Joey looked her up and down, and Phoebe could guess at what he saw. She'd used some of the wad of money to buy a second-hand blouse and skirt, along with some makeup. She now felt comfortable and breezy in her appearance, and she could see the effect it was having on Joey. He grinned. "How you doin'?"  
  
Phoebe squealed, jumped to her feet, and hugged him. "Oh, you do know me! I mean, you don't, but you know that you should know. And you find me pretty!" She squeezed him tightly. "Thank you!"  
  
"Uh, you're welcome." Joey squirmed for a bit, then took her shoulders and separated them. "Look, I get off work at midnight, but if you wanna hook up after that I'm free."  
  
Phoebe laughed, unable to contain her glee. It was him, no matter how much his life had changed, and she loved him a whole bunch. "What I'd like to have you do is come over to Ross's place next weekend. Here, let me give you the address." She took the pen and pad from the apron Joey was wearing and quickly jotted the information down.  
  
Joey took the pad back, frowning. "Who's Ross?"  
  
You were best man at his wedding. Phoebe kept herself from saying that, knowing it wouldn't help. "He's just a guy I'm staying with. I'd like you to meet him and some other people, too."  
  
Joey looked a little alarmed. "Look, I don't want to get in the way if you're already hooked up with this Ross guy."  
  
"I'm not!" Phoebe bit her lip, then said mental apologies to Mike. She stepped back into Joey, put her arms around his neck, drew him in. She kissed him the way he had kissed her once, softly but with passion and promise, the perfect kiss.  
  
Joey responded easily, and for a few seconds they held perfection. Then Phoebe stepped back, feeling somewhat breathless. "Please come. Next Saturday around noon. Okay?"  
  
He reached up, touched his lips while looked at her with wonderment. Then he grinned. "Sure, okay. It's a date."  
  
"Yay!" Phoebe clapped her hands together and bounced once. Then she whirled and left the restaurant, feeling very happy.  
  
Joey was coming, they were all coming, and she knew there wasn't anything they couldn't do together.  
  
---  
  
Phoebe sat in the bedroom at Ross's request. Ross wanted to greet everyone as they arrived and "ease them" into an introduction to Phoebe. The intervening days hadn't done much to alleviate his concern. Ross kept coming home at odd times, still trying to catch her in the middle of doing something nefarious. Phoebe had alternated between cleaning his apartment and trying to contact Mike, have much more success with the former than the latter.  
  
A muted knocking came from the apartment's front door, and Phoebe felt her stomach lurch. Through the ajar bedroom door she could hear Ross open the front door. "Hey Mon."  
  
"Hi." Phoebe felt a tingle run through her at the familiar voice. "Is Chandler here?"  
  
"He's on his way, the plane was late getting in."  
  
"Oh. Well, who else is coming?"  
  
"Besides Rachel?"  
  
"She said she'd be here."  
  
"Oh. Well, there's this other guy coming, never met him before."  
  
"Friend of your new roommate?"  
  
"Uh, yeah."  
  
"So really, what's this all about?"  
  
"You'll see in a bit."  
  
Another knock at the door. Ross opened it. "Hey, man, good to see you."  
  
"Hi. Sorry, I don't have any presents for you. I was going to give you an air sickness bag but I ended up needing it on the cab ride over. I met this guy in the hallway, says some woman invited him here."  
  
"Oh. Hi, you must be Joey."  
  
"Yeah, hi. Ross I take it."  
  
"Yeah. This is my sister Monica and our friend Chandler."  
  
"Hey. Hey. So, uh, where's-"  
  
"She'll be out in a minute, I'd like to get everyone here."  
  
"Oh. Uh, how many more people are coming?"  
  
Another knock at the door.  
  
"Just one, and I'm guessing that's her."  
  
"Let me get it."  
  
"O-okay, Mon."  
  
The sound of the door opening again. "Rachel!"  
  
"Monica, hi."  
  
Phoebe felt her breath leave her. It was her, Rachel, and that meant all of them were here, here now. And Phoebe felt doubt and worry rise up - that she was about to let them all down.  
  
"So, let me introduce everyone. You know my brother Ross, and that's his old college roommate Chandler."  
  
"Yeah, I think I met him a couple of times on Thanksgiving."  
  
"And once at a college party. Nice to see you again."  
  
"Oh? Oh! Oh yeah. Nice to, um, see you again."  
  
"And, uh, this is Joey."  
  
"Joey Tribbiani. How you doin'?"  
  
"I, I'm doing fine, I guess."  
  
"So hey, the old gang's here plus one newcomer. What's the plan, Ross?"  
  
"Well, it's two newcomers. I have to tell you, tell you all about this woman I met."  
  
"Oh? Are you getting married?"  
  
"No-no, nothing like that. I only met her a few days ago, but, see, she, she says..."  
  
"She says she knows us in another universe."  
  
"Mon, I was going to try and build up to that."  
  
"I'm sorry, did you say another universe?"  
  
"Yeah. Okay, it's like this. She says there are two of her. One answered a flyer and became Monica's roommate. That one became her lifelong friend, and through Monica got to know all of us. We, we were supposed to have the best time together, the six of us."  
  
"Uh, Ross. You don't actually believe her, do you?"  
  
"She, she knows things. I mean, personal things I, I'd only tell a good friend."  
  
"So she's trying to scam you out of something. Has she asked for any money?"  
  
"Not a cent. She borrowed some of my clothes until she bought some of her own, with her own money. She's been living here because she doesn't know where in this world she lives."  
  
"At a guess, I'd say Bellevue."  
  
"Yeah. I mean, how, how is she got to know me? I haven't seen Monica for, like, forever."  
  
"Well, see, she says if she'd been Monica's roommate, then Monica would never have been forced out of her apartment. And, and she says you, that when you ran out of your wedding, you would have been able to find her, and, and you would have become Monica's new roommate."  
  
"I didn't want to ask you on the phone, Rachel, but did you run out on your wedding to Barry?"  
  
"I... I did. I did go to where I thought you lived, but all I found was this guy with a hammer who said you'd moved out, so, so I... I went back and... and married Barry because... because I had no better place to.... Who is this woman? How does she know all this?"  
  
"Uh, am I a part of this? How'd I get into this group?"  
  
"Oh. Well, when Monica moved out, Chandler was so disgusted by her eviction that he moved out, too. If he'd stayed, then he would have looked for a new roommate. And that would have been you."  
  
"What, me live with this guy?"  
  
"Hey, this is news to me, too. So okay, I don't know if I buy all of this, but what does Crazy Alternate-Universe Lady want from us?"  
  
"She, uh, wants our help getting back. She thinks that, that through us, she can somehow... connect back to her world, find the Phoebe there, and trade back with her."  
  
"Well, good luck with that. Monica, great seeing you again, but I have to get back home."  
  
"Rachel! Please, stay."  
  
"I'm sorry Monica, but I thought I was seeing you again to catch up on some old times, not to feed some insane person's fantasy. I mean, come on, Ross, how could you possibly buy into all this? I always thought of you as smarter than that."  
  
"I, I don't know, she... she gets to you. I don't know how crazy people act, and she definitely isn't normal, but she's... I mean, she smiles all the time. And real smiles, smiles that make you believe she's genuinely made happy by everything that happens. When she talks about us, she gets so excited. I mean, maybe she's genuinely crazy and somehow got obsessed with all of us and built this fantasy in her head where we all knew each other."  
  
"I'd say that's the most likely explanation."  
  
"Yeah, but... look, I don't know about you guys, but my life hasn't been everything I ever wanted. I'm thirty-five, divorced, in a dead-end job without much prospect for anything else. I, I've got nothing left to lose by believing in her. How about you guys?"  
  
"I know, I know Denny's wasn't what I had in mind what I decided to be a chef."  
  
"Okay, my job in Tulsa is boring as dirt, which is more interesting than you might think but it's still dirt. And I've never had a relationship that's lasted longer than a Mentho."  
  
"Hey, I'm not about to give you guys my resume. I mean yeah, it's tough out there right now and sometimes it's slow between acting jobs, but I'm pretty happy with my life."  
  
"Okay, well, I'm glad to know that. Rachel, what about you? Still married to Barry?"  
  
"Not... not that it's any of your business, Ross, but, well, we got divorced a couple of years ago. And he took my best friend in the divorce and somehow managed to convince everyone it was all my fault, but that doesn't mean... that..."  
  
"Rachel, it's okay, sit down here. Ross, let her be."  
  
"I, I'm sorry Rachel. I really wasn't trying to make you cry. But, but maybe, maybe we could... hear her out?"  
  
The silence stretched. Phoebe took a deep breath and stood up. She discovered that she was trembling and tried to still herself. Her heart ached with the power of the emotions emanating from the other room but she had to be strong, for them as well as herself.  
  
The bedroom door was fully opened. She met Ross's eyes, saw in them the emotional stress he was under, too. "Whenever you're ready."  
  
Phoebe nodded. Ross went back into the living room, leaving Phoebe to enter by herself.  
  
Five pairs of eyes watched her intently. Her gaze drifted around the room. Monica, who looked almost frumpy and hunched in on herself, all the confidence gone from her bearing. Chandler, who looked a lot... softer, flabbier, still the same intelligent eyes and quick humor but a demeanor that said he'd given up on the world. Outwardly Rachel looked the same, her nearly-perfect appearance only spoiled by eyes that had been very recently crying. Joey was dressed up, obviously trying to impress a date. Ross was just sitting in a chair, looking at her with an earnest expression.  
  
But despite all the changes, it was them, it was truly them. Just the sight of the five people who had made such a difference in her life filled Phoebe with joy, and she beamed a greeting at them. "Hi!"  
  
No one smiled in return; no one showed the slightest sign of recognition. Only Joey responded. "So, are we still going out afterwards?"  
  
Phoebe grinned. "You'll have to ask again, afterwards."  
  
"So," Chandler said with a frown, "is what Ross told us true?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm Phoebe. I moved in with Monica, then I moved in with my grandma and Rachel moved in with you Monica, then Joey moved in with Chandler, then Joey moved into his own apartment when he got Days of Our Lives, then Joey lost that job and moved back in, then Ross moved in with Chandler and Joey, then Ugly Naked Guy moved out and Ross moved in there, then Chandler moved in with Monica and Rachel moved in with me, then my apartment caught on fire and only one person could live there so Rachel moved in with Joey, then Chandler and Monica moved to Westchester and Rachel moved in with Ross and Joey moved to Los Angeles and I moved in with Mike and here we all are!" Phoebe beamed at them.  
  
Rachel shook her head and leaned forward. "So, exactly how many of these guys have I slept with?"  
  
"Oh, you never slept with Joey, you were just roommates. I mean yeah, you had one date but it never really went anywhere."  
  
"Uh, back up just a smidge." Chandler looked puzzled and alarmed. "Why exactly did I move in with Monica? Did we get married or something?"  
  
Phoebe nodded. "Yes, but only after you started living together. And you didn't move to Westchester until after the twins arrived."  
  
"The, the twins?" Monica's eyes were very wide.  
  
"Yeah. Jack and Erica."  
  
Monica looked over at Chandler, then blushed and looked back down.  
  
"Look, I don't know who slept with who-" Joey broke off. "Did I sleep with anyone?"  
  
"Oh, lots of people, but no one in this room."  
  
"Oh. Well, look, I just want to know... who got me the job at Days of Our Lives?"  
  
"No one here, you got it yourself." Phoebe frowned. "Actually, I don't know what the difference is, why you didn't get it this time. Maybe it was because Chandler lent you a lot of money over the years, so you could get head shots or other things, or just letting you pay the rent late or buying you food so you could keep looking for an acting job and didn't have to find other work. Well, except the time you worked at Central Perk. Oh, it's too complicated, all I know is that Chandler was your 'best bud' and helped you through some tough times and that without him you may not have ever found the chance."  
  
Now it was Joey who frowned and looked at Chandler. Rather than blushing Joey shook his head and focused back on Phoebe. "So how do I know you?"  
  
Phoebe smiled widely at him. "We can talk for hours and hours about all sorts of stuff. I tried to teach you the guitar and French and you gave me the best birthday present ever. And you're the only person in the world that can tell me and my sister apart."  
  
Joey's frown deepened. "So I still don't know what I'm doing here."  
  
"You're here because... I need your help." Phoebe looked around at everyone. "This body isn't mine, my body is in another world, and it's pregnant, and I really need to get back to it. Plus this body's owner needs to find her way back. So I need you guys with me as I go look for her, because you guys always gave me strength and I need to feel that when I try this or it won't work."  
  
"So, okay, answer this for me." Monica looked up, her eyes glittering with the intensity Phoebe knew well. "What good will come of sending you back? Everything's gone horribly wrong already in this world obviously, and bringing back your other self won't change that. It seems to me that you just want to use us to get back to your oh-so-perfect world and leave us all behind."  
  
Phoebe felt the words like a blow. She moved over and knelt in front of Monica, grabbing her hands. "No, no. What I want is for you to discover how strong you all are together. If you can... let yourselves connect, you'll find the strength and love I knew in my world. And even when I'm gone that won't go away."  
  
Phoebe looked around at all of them. "I didn't tell Ross this, but I had another, even more selfish reason for gathering you. I really wanted to see all of you together again, because in my world that might never happen. We've grown apart, moved on to different aspects of our lives, and even though we love each other dearly we may never come together again, not the way we used to. Here, you guys have a wonderful opportunity to start brand new what I'm only seeing the end of. I wanted to be here and experience the beginning of it, and if I can bring the other Phoebe back I'll be so jealous of her because she'll get to see it all blossom anew."  
  
No one seemed to want to look at each other. Monica gently withdrew her hands. "That's a nice speech, but I still think you're crazy. This kind of stuff, it just doesn't happen."  
  
"So?" Ross stood up, bent down, and put his arm around Phoebe. "Let's say she is crazy, that this whole thing about alternate universes is whacko. Does that mean her end goal is insane? That wanting us - all of us - to become friends and be happy is not worth accomplishing?"  
  
"Oh sure," Rachel said with a hint of disdain. "In her fantasy you and I live together. For all I know this is just some sick and twisted thing you and her and this guy and maybe even Monica put together to try and get us together. I won't have any part of it, Ross."  
  
"Hey! I'm not part of anything sick and twisted." Joey squirmed in his chair. "Look, I don't understand anything of what's going on, and no matter what the crazy blonde says I don't know any of you. But I'm an actor, and I've gotten pretty good at knowing when people are pretending. She, she's either the best actress I've seen or she isn't pretending. She really thinks we... the six of us can be happy. I don't know if I believe her, but I don't see nothing wrong with letting her believe it. Or Ross."  
  
Monica glanced quickly out of the corner of her eye. "Or me. I believe her."  
  
"You believe she's some alternate world body snatcher?" Chandler asked.  
  
"No. But I believe she wants nothing but good things."  
  
"Oh." Chandler studied Monica, who kept her face in profile to his, not meeting his gaze but not turning away either. Then he looked at Phoebe, and she saw something she seldom saw in Chandler: quiet anger. "You're good, you're very good, you know how to manipulate us and our feelings. I don't like it, I don't like it at all."  
  
Phoebe sighed. "You and I played a game once, where-"  
  
"Stop it! You're going to tell me some story that's going to try and make me all weepy, and I won't let you do it."  
  
"Why not?" Phoebe cocked her head. "You like being alone in Tulsa that much?"  
  
Chandler swore softly. "You're still doing it, manipulating me with words."  
  
"I, I'm just trying to... to get you past this silly disbelief. I think the problem is that you want to believe so bad that it scares you, so you have to get all Mr. I-Don't-Like-You. But, but Chandler, I do like you. I even love you as a dear friend. Let me love you, let all of us love you. If you do, I think you'll like it very much."  
  
"Bah." Chandler shot to his feet. "I'm going back to Tulsa. Call me in another two years, Ross, we'll have to torture each other again."  
  
He turned to leave but was stopped by a hand reaching up and grabbing his arm. Surprised, he looked down at Rachel. She was looking straight ahead at nothing at all, and her voice was slightly tremulous as she said, "Please don't go."  
  
"Oh my God." Chandler shook his head. "She got to you, too."  
  
"I... a long time ago, I went looking for Monica. I couldn't find her, and I gave up and went back to a life I knew was going to be miserable. I can't tell you how much I've regretted that." She looked up at Chandler, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I don't want to manipulate you. I just want to let you know that if you let this go by you may regret it, too."  
  
Chandler swallowed. "My life is not miserable."  
  
"Th-then you're very lucky." Rachel began sobbing, letting Chandler's arm go, reaching into her purse.  
  
Phoebe quickly looked over to Ross but he was way ahead of her. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. "Here."  
  
"Thanks." Rachel took it, avoiding Ross's eyes, and began dabbing her face while attempting to control her sobs and hiccupping in the process.  
  
Chandler met Phoebe's gaze, and the anger was no less evident. "See what you've done?"  
  
Truth be told, Phoebe was feeling somewhat wretched, Rachel's pain deeper and more powerful than she'd guessed. But Phoebe felt no less certain of her cause and returned his gaze calmly. "Remember that line from those books you made me read? I will not say 'do not weep' for not all tears are an evil."  
  
Chandler thinned his lips. He looked at Rachel, then at Monica, then back at Phoebe. With an annoyed grunt he sat back down on the couch, arms folded across his chest.  
  
Phoebe sagged slightly with relief, then stood up again. The air was thick with emotion and it wasn't the joy and happiness she'd hoped for. But they were here, they were staying, and that was all she needed. "Okay. I'm going to begin now. Ross, light the incense please."  
  
Ross nodded.  
  
Joey looked confused. "What do you expect us to do?"  
  
Phoebe smiled at him. "Stay here. Think good thoughts."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"That's it." Phoebe went back into the bedroom, took a pillow from the bed, and reentered the living room. The smoke was already beginning to drift up and Phoebe took a good deep breath. She exhaled happily, then arranged herself on the floor next to the coffee table, her head on the pillow.  
  
Phoebe took another breath and closed her eyes. "Find your happy place. It's there, inside. And it's bigger than you remember. Because you've made room for everyone else. Our happy place always has room for our friends."  
  
"Does it have to? Because I just had my happy place remodeled."  
  
Phoebe opened her eyes a slit to look at Chandler. "There are no questions in the happy place."  
  
Chandler looked abashed. "Sorry."  
  
Phoebe gave him a quick smile, then closed her eyes again. "My happy place is... is Central Perk. It's busy, there's Gunther in the background preparing our coffee, and Ross is sitting in one chair, Joey in the other, and Monica is sitting on the couch with Chandler on one side and Rachel on the other, and I'm standing... standing at the microphone, singing... can... can you hear me... I'm singing Smelly Cat, can, can you..."  
  
"...hear me?"  
  
Phoebe blinked. She was in Central Perk. It appeared to be after hours, for the place was empty and it was dark outside and in. She had her guitar strapped around her shoulders but there was no one to sing to.  
  
There was a whisper of movement, and Phoebe peered as best as she could. A voice, a faint voice, called out from the darkness. "Can you hear me? This is dumb, this is really dumb, but are you out there? Your stupid husband wants his stupid wife back."  
  
Phoebe bristled. "He's not stupid."  
  
Something shifted in the dim area next to the couch, took on a form. A familiar form, very similar to Phoebe's. This one had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked young, no more than twenty. Phoebe wondered if she looked the same age in that woman's eyes.  
  
The other woman peered back, then grimaced and looked down. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called him stupid."  
  
Phoebe wanted to rush over but found herself sort of held in place. Instead she asked anxiously, "Is he all right?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, he's fine, they're all fine, but they want you back."  
  
"Oh? Do they know about the other world?"  
  
"No, they just think I've gone crazy and are hoping that if I relive the past again I'll get back to the right present."  
  
"Oh. Well, that's sort of the same thing."  
  
"I guess. So how do we fix this?"  
  
Phoebe once again attempted to move away from the microphone, but she appeared to be stuck in place. "I don't know," she admitted.  
  
"Oh. Well, I don't know either. All I know is that Scarf and Romy jumped me before I could ditch the purse, and I knew I'd have to fight them, and I didn't want to, I didn't want to a lot, and I started thinking that maybe the normal life wouldn't have been so bad after all, even with the risk of ovens."  
  
Phoebe nodded. "You started wishing that you'd taken the number from the flyer and called Monica and tried a normal life."  
  
"Well... yeah." The other woman walked around the room. "This is Chester's place, isn't it? I spent the summer here once a few years back."  
  
"Chester?" Phoebe looked around. "You don't see Central Perk?"  
  
"What's Central Perk?"  
  
"We... we're in the happy place," Phoebe decided. "It looks different to each of us, but it's the same place."  
  
"Oh. My happy place is Chester's apartment? I guess. He mostly wasn't around so I was by myself and no one bothered me, and I needed that."  
  
"I, I don't know who Chester is, so I don't see his apartment. We can probably only see things we remember in the happy place."  
  
"Oh? Hmm. I wish I could see what you see."  
  
"Let's... let's go someplace we both know. How about this?"  
  
The coffee house faded, and an apartment formed around them. The other woman looked around with disinterest. "Oh. Grandma's place."  
  
Phoebe smiled. "You see it too? Yay!"  
  
The other woman looked at her. "Did you live here? With her?"  
  
"Yes, for a couple of years. Did you?"  
  
"Once in a while, when I needed to lay low. Until she died. I supposed she loved you."  
  
"And you too."  
  
"You know who else loved us?" The apartment faded, was replaced by a hallway in a house.  
  
Phoebe felt a sudden cold terror. "No."  
  
Ahead, in the hallway, a fourteen-year-old version of her sister came out into the hallway, a blank expression on her face. Ursula beckoned to them. "Come in here. I want to show you something."  
  
"NO!" Phoebe tried to close her eyes but couldn't, and inexorably found herself moving towards the kitchen. "This is not a happy place! This is not a happy place!"  
  
The hallway faded, and Phoebe found herself in the back seat of a car, surrounded by cans. Somehow the other woman was also in a back seat but facing her. She seemed desperately apologetic. "I'm sorry. I was trying to hurt you. I shouldn't have."  
  
Phoebe felt the panic subside slightly as she gulped in air. "Why? Why did you want to hurt me?"  
  
"Because. Because your life is so perfect and normal. It should have been me. Instead, it became bad."  
  
The scene shifted, and now Phoebe found herself in Monica's apartment. "So, your share would be four-fifty plus half the food. This would be your room." Monica opened the door, and Phoebe moved inside, seeing an emptiness she would soon fill. "What do you think?"  
  
Phoebe turned around, and saw her other self drop into a crouch, preparing for a fight. "Do you see him? He's going to try and mug me tonight."  
  
Phoebe looked around the empty room. "No. All I see is Monica."  
  
"Of course not. You don't have memories like this." The other woman ducked an attack, lashed out with her leg.  
  
Desperately Phoebe thought back. They were at a beach with their mother and sister. Phoebe looked at her other self, saw a lanky twelve-year-old. The girl slowly relaxed. "Why this? Our stepfather was supposed to meet us here, but instead he robbed a store on the way and got arrested."  
  
"But that hasn't happened yet, and this was fun, the anticipation was fun." Phoebe watched as Ursula ran towards the ocean and dived in, displaying a grace in water Phoebe would never be able to duplicate.  
  
"But we were disappointed. Everything, everything ended in disappointment." The scene shifted to the outside of the Gremlin, which Cindy had somehow managed to get working long enough to hook a hose from the tailpipe to the front window. "Everything ended badly. I kept hoping, trying to find something good, but it never came. Even the job, the aromatherapy, I couldn't keep that up for long."  
  
"You can. You did. I did. With a little help." Phoebe concentrated, took a guess, and Ross and Rachel's apartment appeared. "Do you see this?"  
  
"Yes. This is where they took me. Where those two lived."  
  
"Good." Phoebe looked around, saw Ross and Rachel sitting together, holding hands, Chandler and Monica standing over them, laughing. Joey sitting in a chair, grinning widely. "Do you see them, too?'  
  
"Uh huh. Yeah, they all got together and managed to talk me into looking for you."  
  
"All of them? You probably don't see Joey."  
  
"Which one is he? The gorgeous one?"  
  
Phoebe was surprised both by the fact that her other self had a memory of Joey and that she shared Phoebe's opinion of his looks. "Yes. How do you know him?"  
  
"Oh, uh, I guess he flew in when they were looking for me."  
  
"Who... who was looking for you?"  
  
"All these people. Plus that other guy, your husband."  
  
"But why were they looking for you?"  
  
"Because I ran away."  
  
Phoebe looked at her other self, and suddenly the scene shifted back to the house, her bedroom, the drawers flung open and clothes scattered everywhere. Phoebe mournfully began stuffing some of the clothes into the backpack that had appeared over her shoulder. "Why did you run away?"  
  
The other woman, who now looked fourteen, was also grabbing clothes from the floor and putting them into her backpack. "I mean, what would you do if you suddenly woke up in a strange man's apartment and you were several months pregnant?"  
  
"Oh." Phoebe shook her head sadly. "You didn't need to, though. He's a nice man."  
  
"Oh my God, he's too much. He represents too many of the things I hate. Lazy affluence, having everything and not sharing it with anyone. I don't understand how you could possibly live with him."  
  
Phoebe considered that. "I, I guess I've changed more than I thought. He's not lazy; he was a lawyer until it got too much for him. He's just trying to find a new direction for his life, and I'm helping him with that."  
  
"And in the meantime eating caviar and wearing designer clothes. I bet you watch PBS, too!"  
  
"I do not!" Except when Joey had been on. And then Phoebe found herself crouched inside a cardboard box on its side in an alley, looking down at a Sesame Street key ring.  
  
"You forgot all this, didn't you?" The other woman held up her key ring. "Forgot all about the cold and misery. Now you just live your happy rich life and ride your flying pony whenever you want."  
  
"I don't have a flying pony," Phoebe muttered. She dropped the key ring on the ground. "And I had a happy and rich life even when I was still poor."  
  
The other woman almost sneered. "Because of those other people."  
  
"Yes. Because of them." Phoebe stood and they were back in Ross's apartment. "Joey. Monica. Rachel. Chandler. Ross." They appeared as she named them. "I didn't forget how bad everything was, but I didn't let it stop me from loving these people. And they, in turn, made my life ever-so-much better. I had a family. For the first time, I had a real, loving family. And if it changed me a little, that's all right. It was for the better."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Of course I am. And so are you." Phoebe held her other self's gaze. "Otherwise you wouldn't have so desperately wanted to change your life."  
  
The other woman dropped her eyes after a moment and didn't respond.  
  
Phoebe looked back at the memory of her friends. "I wish I could show you more, how happy we were, the wonderful times we had. But, you know, you can have it, too."  
  
"I can't." The other woman was near to tears. "I can't change it now, it's too late."  
  
"It is not too late!" Phoebe stamped her foot. "They're back there right now, waiting for you. Ross, he took me in, gave me a place to stay because I didn't know where you lived, and he helped me bring everyone together, and they came and they helped! They're just so open and willing and ready to have you be their friend."  
  
"How can they be? They don't know me. I don't know them."  
  
"You'll know them if you try. And you can help them. Ross and Rachel, they're each other's lobster."  
  
"Lobster?"  
  
"You know." Phoebe made a motion with her hands.  
  
"Oh, the claws. And Chandler and Monica too, I suppose."  
  
"Yes, see!" Phoebe beamed. "They'll be able to love each other a whole bunch if you help them find the way."  
  
"Do..." The other woman looked at the memory of Joey, looked away. "Do I have a lobster?"  
  
Phoebe grinned. "That you have to discover on your own."  
  
"Oh. So I have to help them all hook up and maybe I'll get hooked up, too."  
  
"You're supposed to help them heal each other, and in return you'll be healed as well."  
  
"So easy for you to say," the other woman said bitterly. "Your life is perfect perfect."  
  
"Not... not as perfect as all that." Phoebe fought off the memories that threatened to surface. "You're right, I, I've become too isolated from the problems that made our childhood so awful at times. When I go back, I'm going to change that. I won't live as a queen in a castle any more, because you're right, I used to despise people like that. I, I need to make certain I don't turn into everything I used to hate."  
  
The aromatherapy clinic materialized around them. The other woman sighed wistfully. "It, it almost began here. I had a job, I actually got a paycheck. I, I don't know how it... slipped away. I just, I just didn't want to..."  
  
"End up like Mom. I know." Phoebe shuddered. "What I eventually found out is that there can be people who can live normal lives with being mean, without deserting you when you need them the most. If, if you cultivate their friendship, if you let yourself love them, they'll love you too and they'll never, ever leave you."  
  
The other woman hugged herself. "You promise?"  
  
"I promise." Phoebe smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, I know."  
  
The other woman began crying. "I, I don't want to go back there. I'm so tired and lonely and sad."  
  
Panic began rising in Phoebe. "Are, are you saying you want to... to stay in my world?"  
  
"Oh God, no!" She shook her head violently. "I don't want to have his baby, I don't want to live his rich wasteful life."  
  
Phoebe felt a peculiar mix of relief and anger. She let the emotions drain away and said calmly, "What do you want, then?"  
  
"I want to stay here!" She looked hopefully up at Phoebe. "Can I just stay here with you?"  
  
Phoebe sighed. "I lived like that, once. I lived in a world where my memories were more real than reality itself. I don't know about you, but that didn't make me any happier or less lonely. It was only when I started... connecting to real people that I found a way to be happy."  
  
"No, no it's too much!" The other woman whirled and began attacking. Phoebe's eyes widened, for she saw it too. The man was very large, very muscular, and he wanted Phoebe to work for him, to perform services every night for a cut of the money earned. Phoebe found her wrists gripped tightly by the man as she struggled.  
  
Somehow the other woman's wrists were held, too. "I'm too tired to start over, I just want it all to go away!"  
  
Phoebe kneed the man in his groin. His face suffused with anger and he spit directly into her face. Phoebe turned her head in disgust and looked at her other self. "This is fun for you? This is the moment you want to stay in?"  
  
"N-no." The man vanished and suddenly they were under an overpass, a nice dark place sheltered from the wind, the noise of the tollway curiously relaxing. The other woman settled herself in the cement corner, pulling a blanket over her. "But I could stay here. This was safe."  
  
Phoebe looked around. "Until we got hungry. Until we had to had to try and find - or steal - some food."  
  
The other woman shrunk in even further. "I could always find memory of food."  
  
"You know that wouldn't be enough."  
  
"I... I know." The other woman clutched her blanket tightly. "I know."  
  
Phoebe leaned in, spoke softly. "You have a wonderful life waiting for you. They're good people, they only need someone like you to bring out all their best qualities. If you open yourself up, play with them, have fun with them. That's all it takes to begin with. Everything else will follow."  
  
The other woman moaned plaintively. "I haven't had fun in ages."  
  
"You will again. But you know what you have to do next."  
  
"I... I know."  
  
The overpass vanished. A room formed around them, with washing machines, dryers, carts, and a bulletin board covered with brightly-colored pieces of paper. Phoebe closed the lid on her laundry and slid the tray full of quarters inwards. The washing machine thrummed to life.  
  
The other woman started up her washing machine, then turned to face Phoebe. Her face was a little frightened but calm. "I, I have to know something."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why did you come here? If you're so happy, why'd you want to change anything?"  
  
"I didn't. I just wanted to think of a name for the baby. I wanted it to be something special, so I was going back over my life, trying to remember who had been especially helpful." She smiled. "I'd name it after you, except it's me too, and no one would know the difference."  
  
"Oh." The other woman smiled. "Why not Melissa?"  
  
"Melissa?" Phoebe frowned in puzzlement. "Who's Melissa?"  
  
The other woman laughed. "We are, silly. It's our middle name."  
  
Phoebe froze. "You... you know our middle name?"  
  
The other woman looked equally surprised. "You don't?"  
  
"No! Ursula had my birth certificate but she sold it to someone and she didn't remember what it was."  
  
"Oh! I swiped all that stuff from Ursula a long time ago, I knew she couldn't take care of any of it."  
  
"But how'd you know she had them?"  
  
"Oh. Well, I might have been looking for some jewelry or something I could borrow for a while."  
  
Phoebe's face was frozen in shock. "Melissa," she breathed.  
  
The other woman nodded happily.  
  
A smile slowly grew on Phoebe's face. "It's beautiful. It's perfect. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
They both turned towards the bulletin board. Phoebe took two steps forward and there it was. Roommate wanted. Female, non-smoker. She reached up one hand, hesitated, and pulled it back. "I'm going to miss you."  
  
"Me too. G-good luck with little Melissa."  
  
"Thanks." Then, with a calm strength and infinite sadness, Phoebe reached out and separated one of the strips of paper.  
  
The other woman turned away, went back to her washing machine. "Goodbye Phoebe."  
  
Phoebe walked over to the pay phone, lifted up the receiver, pushed some quarters into the slot. "Goodbye Phoebe."  
  
A young woman's voice said pleasantly, "Hello?"  
  
Phoebe's throat locked up, unable to find a way to respond. "I, I, I'm Phoebe, I saw your flyer, I was wondering... uh, are you still looking for a roommate?"  
  
"A roommate? Phoebe, can you hear me?"  
  
"I, I'm single, I work in aromatherapy, I can give you the name of my boss as a reference."  
  
"Phoebe, wake up."  
  
Her eyes flew open. Monica's face filled her vision, her expression one of concern. "Are you all right? Did, did it work?"  
  
Phoebe's eyes widened. She reached down for her stomach, felt a reassuring lump. She grinned. "I'm back!" She encased Monica in a hug.  
  
Monica said something like "Whouf" and hugged her back.  
  
"Are you okay?" Rachel bent over the couch, looked down into Phoebe's face. "Do you know who I am?"  
  
"You're Rachel!" Phoebe allowed Monica to escape for now and jumped to her feet. She grasped Rachel's shoulders and gave her a little shake. "I'm going to be your maid of honor but we have so much to do still!"  
  
A kind of relieved sigh floated through the room. "Pheebs, I'm glad you're all right, you had us worried."  
  
Phoebe looked over at Joey and beamed. "You came for me, you flew all the way back for me!" She flung herself into his arms. "Thank you!"  
  
Joey chuckled. "Sure Pheebs. But... what was this about you not knowing who we were?"  
  
Phoebe took a step back, looked at everyone. "That was... someone else. In my body. She freaked out a little, but she's all right now."  
  
They exchanged glances, and Phoebe knew they didn't necessarily believe her. But that was all right.  
  
Phoebe whirled around once. "Where's Mike?"  
  
Chandler gestured vaguely in the direction of the street. "You, uh, whoever was in your body, they didn't react at all well to Mike. He was the one that suggested you- er, the person in your body use aromatherapy to travel back and try to re-remember who you were. You, um, she agreed, but only if he wasn't here because he scared her too much."  
  
"Oh." Phoebe bit her lip. "Poor Mike."  
  
"He didn't go far," Ross said. "He's outside waiting for us to call him. I can-"  
  
Phoebe ran towards the window. Quickly she unlocked it and lifted it open. She leaned way out, looking left and right, and saw him. "Mike!" She screamed and waved. "Mike!"  
  
He looked up, the anxiousness in his face giving way to joy. "Phoebe! Are you all right?"  
  
"Not until you get up here! Hurry! I have a great name for the baby!" She gave him her biggest smile.  
  
Mike laughed and ran towards the building entrance.  
  
Phoebe turned around, the smile not diminishing in the least. The other five people in the room were also smiling, happy and relieved. Phoebe understood more than ever how blessed she was.  
  
Then the front door burst open and Phoebe rushed over to embrace her husband, feeling his love add to everyone else's, and she channeled it all inside of her so the Melissa would feel it, too.  
  
---  
  
Phoebe's eyes opened. She sat up and looked around. Five people looked at her with various expressions. Phoebe put her hand on her stomach and felt a tremendous wave of relief when it was flat.  
  
"So, what happened? Did you visit the land of Narnia and come back a changed woman?"  
  
Phoebe looked at the man who had spoken. He seemed a little angry and, strangely, a little hopeful. "I, I don't know what Narnia is."  
  
"What he's asking," another of the men said, "is whether you were able to go back to your universe."  
  
Phoebe looked at him, then around at the other faces. They had names, she knew them. Her eyes darted about the room, automatically tagging small items of value that could fit inside a pocket.  
  
She stopped herself, looked once more at the faces. They're good people, a voice inside her said, they only need someone like you to bring out all their best qualities.  
  
Phoebe slowly got to her feet, wistfully eyed the front door, then faced the man that had spoken. "Yes, it worked. I'm back."  
  
"Oh?" The man - Ross - frowned. "That, that seemed easy."  
  
"Well, it wasn't. It hurt a little bit. But I got to meet, um, myself, and she said you helped me. Thank you."  
  
"Er, you're welcome."  
  
"So that's it?" The angry man - Chandler - surged to his feet. "You lie down, burn some incense, and it's all magically okay? What are you trying to do to us, woman?"  
  
Phoebe studied him for a moment, saw the desperate confusion in him. She decided to try a smile and hold out her hand. "Hi, I'm Phoebe. Phoebe Buffay."  
  
Chandler stared at her and her hand. Phoebe adopted a coquettish demeanor, surprised at both how easily it came to her and how much she enjoyed it. Open yourself up to them, play with them, and everything else will follow.  
  
After a moment he sighed and shook her hand. "Chandler Bing."  
  
Phoebe grinned, then repeated the introduction all around. She ended with the gorgeous guy, who held on to her hand after shaking it. "So, are we still going out?"  
  
Phoebe suddenly felt a little short of breath. "But we've only just met," she said coyly.  
  
"No we haven't. Don't you remember the kiss?"  
  
Oh ho. Her other self had kissed this man. For some reason that made Phoebe feel even better. "No. You'll have to remind me."  
  
She leaned in. He leaned back and looked around at the other people in the room. Phoebe felt her smile widening. Despite his apparently one-track mind, he was still shy about certain things. Phoebe would have a great deal of fun toying with him. And she was fairly certain he'd enjoy it, too.  
  
"Well, uh, if you're really back..." Ross seemed very uncomfortable. "Do, do you remember where you live?"  
  
Phoebe turned, the smile dimming a bit. She had a room in an abandoned building she had claimed as her own, and she occasionally rented a room at a run-down hotel for a day or two when she had the money and wanted to relax a little. Nothing she'd call a home. "I know where my stuff is. I don't need to stay here anymore."  
  
"Where your stuff is?" Rachel cocked her head. "That isn't the same thing as saying you know where you live."  
  
Phoebe met her eyes, resisted the urge to gloss over the truth. "I don't really have a permanent address."  
  
"Then-" Rachel paused, then the words came out in rush. "Stay with me. I have lots of room, we can get you your own bed and everything."  
  
"Really?" Phoebe's eyes widened in shock. "You'd do that for me?"  
  
Rachel hesitated only a second. "Yes. The place was too big anyway after Barry moved out."  
  
Phoebe suddenly felt like crying. She held it back, simply muttered, "Thank you."  
  
"Sure." Rachel smiled back.  
  
Phoebe looked over at Ross. "You'll come visit, won't you?"  
  
"Uh..." Ross looked surprised. "Sure, if you want me to."  
  
"Good. Thank you for taking care of my body while I was away."  
  
"Uh, you're welcome." Ross seemed flustered. "So, uh, anyone wanna order some pizzas?"  
  
"I'm hungry," Joey said. "Who likes pepperoni?"  
  
"I haven't had a good New York pizza in a long time," Chandler said wistfully.  
  
"Good. Let me order." Ross picked up his phone and sat down on the couch, perhaps coincidentally right next to Rachel. She eyed him speculatively but not, Phoebe noticed, with any distaste.  
  
"Well, that's going to take a while." Monica stood up. "Let me see if I can whip up some appetizers."  
  
"Good idea." Chandler also got to his feet and followed Monica into the kitchen. "You made the best mac and cheese I ever had."  
  
Phoebe smiled. Lobsters, indeed. She looked at Ross and Rachel, who were deep into a discussion about toppings. Then her eyes met Joey's, and she felt a warm pleasant glow. She walked over and curled into a sitting position on the floor in front of his chair. "So, tell me about yourself."  
  
"Well, I got seven sisters-"  
  
"Seven! Oh my, I just had the one. Were you all born at once?"  
  
"Er, no, we happened one at a time over a dozen years."  
  
"Oh." Phoebe grinned. "That seems more normal."  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"I'm not used to normal things," Phoebe said. She reached out, began fiddling with his shoelaces. "But I think I could learn to like them."  
  
"Good." Joey grinned. "I think I could learn to like something that's a little off the wall."  
  
Phoebe laughed, feeling it all begin and feeling that it was good. Just like she promised. And for the first time since running away from home, Phoebe felt good and content, in a place where she belonged.  
  
Phoebe continued to listen, not just to Joey but to all of them as they talked to each other and made the connections that would last them a lifetime.  
  
---  
  
(the end)  
  
---  
  
Author's Notes: You may notice some similarity between this and another of my stories, "The One With the DVD's". All I can say is that I enjoy writing from Phoebe's perspective and having surreal things happen to her. )  
  
As always, any criticisms or suggestions you have, I'd love to hear about them. 


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